


one life for the two of us

by so_larrily



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Afterlife, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Compliant, Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Spoilers, Canonical Character Death, Crime Fighting, Don’t copy to another site, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, I cried while writing this, Near Death Experiences, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Peter Parker finally gets the closure he deserves, Post-Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Rated T for Violence, for this fic MJ already knows Peter's secret, just a warning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-29
Updated: 2019-06-29
Packaged: 2020-05-28 19:10:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,737
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19400551
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/so_larrily/pseuds/so_larrily
Summary: One week after Tony Stark's funeral, something inside Peter snaps.Or, Peter deserves some closure.





	one life for the two of us

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, everyone! I should be working on my other fics, but I thought of this not long after seeing Endgame and just had to write it. I cried several times while writing it, just a fair warning. I poured my heart and soul into this fic, because in a way it’s sort of how I’m grieving over Tony. I hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it.

One week after Tony Stark’s funeral, something inside Peter snaps.

He _knew_ he shouldn’t have gone out on patrol. Something didn’t feel right inside him. He’d been in a sort of “funk” that entire week. Truthfully, he hadn’t felt anything since Tony died right before his eyes. No hunger. No thirst. Nothing. He had a hard time sleeping; in every single dream, he saw Tony’s charred, lifeless body, eyes open but unseeing.

During the funeral, Peter couldn’t cry, which surprised him. It seemed like he’d done nothing but cry every day since Tony’s death. He’d spent hours crying after the battle had ended. All of the emotions (learning that he’d been dead for five years, watching Tony die, feeling desperation to see his aunt again) hit him once his adrenaline levels from the battle dropped. He reunited with May, which was a tear-fest in and of itself. They stayed up all night, Peter sobbing into May’s shoulder while she shed silent tears of her own. He had cried every night after that, sometimes until he made himself sick, until the day before his funeral.

But for whatever reason… tears wouldn’t come as he stood on the dock behind Pepper and Morgan, May’s hand on his shoulder, keeping him grounded. It was like he had no tears left to cry. Peter felt hollow, as if someone had ripped his heart out of his chest. It was so unfair. He’d never had the chance to tell Tony how grateful he was for him, how he saw him as a father figure.

How he’d grown to love him as such.

Once they got back to the apartment, Peter stripped off his suit and laid in bed, staring at the ceiling. Music was quietly playing in the background; he’d turned on AC/DC, an old school band that Tony always played in the lab. He still felt empty inside; he just couldn’t feel… _anything_.

Peter returned to school just a couple of days later. Reuniting with Ned and MJ, both of whom apparently had died in the Decimation as well, cheered him up. But, with the happiness also came the overwhelming pain and sorrow. He’d wanted to introduce Tony to his Guy in the Chair, to the girl he had a crush on. It was too late for that. He spent the entire lunch period crying in the janitor’s closet that day.

MJ and Ned noticed his behavior as those first few days progressed. How he rarely cracked a smile. How, when their chemistry teacher told lame jokes about the periodic table that used to send him into fits of laughter, he stayed silent. How he barely ate anything on Nacho Day in the cafeteria. How he just sat at his desk in class, not bothering to speak to anyone. They didn’t say anything.

He felt hollow. He felt like a whirlpool of darkness was threatening to swallow him whole. Anytime he felt even an inkling of joy, he was hit over the head with a wave of longing and sadness.

_Tony should be here. Tony should be here. Tony should be here._

It was a never-ending cycle. If he wasn’t crying, he felt empty and void of emotion. If he wasn’t feeling hollow, he was crying. And he was _sick_ of crying.

Peter had confided in May after his second day back at school. _Everyone_ was talking about Iron Man, how he had died saving the universe from its biggest threat, in the presence of all the Avengers. It was when Betty Brant nonchalantly mentioned she heard Spider-Man, the hero of Queens, was there that he broke. He walked out of English class, hid in one of the marching band practice rooms, and cried again. Even hearing his own superhero name was a trigger. It seemed like _everything_ related to Tony would send him over the edge, including anything Spider-Man related. He told May about this, but he left out the bits about feeling hollow.

“It’s not like when Ben died,” Peter had said, wiping at his tear-filled eyes. “When Ben died, I only let myself mourn in private. I felt like I had to be strong when I was around you. And now, it’s like I have no one to be strong for. Not even myself.”

May explained that people grieve in different ways, and that she was the same way after Ben had died. “I remember just a few weeks after, I made myself a sandwich for lunch. Ham and turkey, provolone, mayo, and lettuce. It wasn’t until I had my lunch break at work that day that I realized I made Ben’s favorite sandwich. You know how much I hate ham. I just naturally made it, without thinking. I went to the bathroom and cried over that sandwich. Being upset over hearing your superhero name is _not_ as bad as crying over deli meat.” She’d leaned forward and kissed his cheek, running her fingers through his hair. “It _will_ get better, Peter. I promise you that. It’s not fair that someone your age has dealt with so much loss. But you _will_ get through this. I’ll be here with you every step of the way.”

Later that night, May had suggested that Peter might have to grieve over Tony differently than how he grieved over Ben. While lying in bed, unable to sleep due to the possibility of nightmares, Peter decided that the following night, he’d go out on patrol. Maybe it would help him heal somehow. Wearing the suit that Tony made him might help him feel closer to his mentor, his father-figure, even if he couldn’t see him or call him anymore.

School went by in a breeze. Peter let the hollow feeling inside take over. All day, he was detached, empty, numb. He didn’t react to Flash’s usual name calling, to Ned complaining about how many video game releases they’d missed, to MJ’s typical banter. He just woke up, went to school, and came home. No feeling, no emotion.

Perhaps that was where it all went wrong.

Patrol had been going well. It was his first one since his return. There were familiar cheers of joy from citizens as he swung through Queens, lifting his spirits. _Your friendly neighborhood Spider-Man is back!_ He helped an elderly man carry groceries to his apartment. He stopped a car thief. He got a cat out of a tree and returned her to her owner. Typical patrol.

There was a mugging later that night. His enhanced hearing picked up the sound of a scuffle, of a woman crying out, of a man grunting. With Karen guiding him, he swung that way and dropped to the alleyway in less than a minute, landing right behind three masked men. One was gripping a crying woman, holding a gun to her temple. The other two kicked and beat another man to the ground.

“Wow fellas, I’ve been back for a week and you’re mugging people already?” Peter says, crossing his arms. All five heads turn toward him. “Guess you didn’t hear the news.”

Peter feels a tingle in the back of his neck, and _DANGER_ flashes through his mind, loud and clear. He hears the sound of a gun cock. Immediately, he throws his hands out and fires his webs, using the webs to fling the guns high into the air.

For a moment, nothing happens. Then, _everything_ happens.

The first guy pushes the girl aside and throws an arm back, about to throw a punch. But Peter is faster, shouting, “Karen, web blanket!” A massive web shoots toward the thug, sending him flying back and trapping him against the building, covering him from neck to toe. The other two turn on him, but it just takes Peter a few quick punches and web shots to take them out, leaving them in an unconscious heap on the concrete.

In an instant, the woman rushes to the man’s side, sobbing with relief. “Here, bud, let me help you up,” Peter says, stretching out a hand. The man takes it, and Peter helps him up, noting that his face is bleeding and bruised, and he’s holding his side. “Might wanna hit up a hospital to check out your side,” Peter says.

The man laughs. “Thanks, Spider-Man. Queens was really dull without you.”

“It’s great to have you back,” the woman adds. “Thanks for saving the neighborhood.”

“Oh, like you saved Iron Man?”

Peter’s blood runs cold, his breath catching in his chest. He turns toward the sound of the voice: the guy he’d webbed to the wall. Slowly, he walks toward the thug, stopping when he’s directly in front of him.

“What the _fuck_ did you say?”

The thug just smirks. “I heard you were there when he died. You saved the world, but you couldn’t save Earth’s greatest super—”

He doesn’t get to finish before Peter punches him square in the jaw. The thug has the audacity to _laugh_ , a sound that makes Peter’s blood boil. He punches him again, this time hitting his eye and splitting skin. And suddenly, as he laughs again, nothing else matters. Peter sees _red._ He punches him again, and again, and again. Blood covers his knuckles and splatters his mask. He hears Karen telling him to stop. But he _can’t._ Peter hits him over and over again.

“ _PETER!_ ” A shock of electricity shoots through his suit, knocking him out of his stupor. He finds himself breathing heavily, his hands trembling. The fabric on his knuckles is split open, his skin covered in blood and cuts from his rampage. The couple he saved is long gone. _Oh god._ Gulping, he raises his head.

“Karen?” he whispers, his voice shaking as he stares at the bruised, bloody, unconscious man trapped in the web.

“He’s alive,” she responds, seemingly reading his mind. “I’ve called Happy Hogan. He’s on his way.”

Peter lets out an ugly, dry sob, clawing at his mouth. He drops to his knees, staring at the man. Blood drips down onto the thick web blanket, turning it an eerie shade of pink.

_I did this. I did this. I did this._

“Karen?” he whispers again. “What happened?”

He knows what happened. He lost it. He snapped. But he has to hear his A.I. say it.

“This man said something that caused your heart rate to elevate rapidly. Your adrenaline levels spiked tremendously. Peter, it seemed like you were in a trance. The only way I was able to stop you was by administering a small electric shock. This was a fail-safe protocol placed in my system by the Boss in case you… really hurt someone. He had one in his suits too… just in case.”

Peter feels so small, so frightened of himself. He feels tears welling up in his eyes. _How_ could he do this? _How_ could he let his emotions get the better of him? The trigger just went off; he heard _his_ name and snapped.

_I could have killed him._

“Karen, tell Happy I’m fine,” he says.

“Peter, I—”

“Just do it, please.”

He doesn’t wait for her to confirm that Happy is no longer coming. He swings home faster than he ever thought he could, sneaking in through his bedroom window as always. Without thinking, he locks the door and strips out of his suit, chucking it across the room.

Peter stares at himself in the mirror, his vision blurred from unshed tears. One of the thugs managed to get a couple punches in, but Peter finds his cheekbone and eye are already healing. He glances down at his hands, finding the scrapes from his incessant punching have sealed themselves, leaving just thin lines across his knuckles. By morning, the scrapes will be gone, but the bruises will likely still be healing.

But that doesn’t change the fact that he could have _killed_ someone tonight.

Peter crawls into bed, forgetting about eating dinner or finishing his homework, curling up into a ball under the sheets. He wipes at his eyes, feeling a plethora of emotions hit him at once. He’s tired of crying. He’s mad at himself for letting his emotions get the best of him. He’s scared of himself, of what he might do. What if another classmate says something about Iron Man, this time in a negative context? Will his emotions take over again?

 _I’m tired of crying_ , he thinks, again. _I’m tired of feeling sad and angry and guilty._

Maybe the only solution, the only way to protect himself and ensure that he doesn’t let his guard down, that his emotions don’t take over, is to just… _not feel._ No matter what, even if he was dying inside, begging to let his emotions out, he couldn’t let it show. Then, he might completely break down.

It had worked so far. When he was at school, he didn’t let himself feel anything. Though there were a few triggering moments, he still managed to get through the day. He didn’t like doing it to himself. He’d look in the mirror and find someone cold and empty staring back at him. His eyes were hollow and sad.

But it worked. Hiding his emotions, keeping them inside. When he did so, he never cried, never got angry or upset. He was just… there.

_Don’t feel._

That night, something inside Peter snaps. 

* * *

A knock at the door brings Peter out of a deep, dreamless sleep. He rubs at his eyes, propping himself up on his elbow when the door opens. May peeks inside, a smile on her face. His eyes flick over to the bloody, discarded Spider-Man suit by his closet, clearly within her line of sight.

_Please don’t see it._

“Good morning, my love,” she greets, stepping inside.

“Morning, Aunt May,” Peter says, clearing his throat.

“So, I know you normally like to sleep in on Saturdays, but you’ve got a visitor,” she says. “Throw some clothes on and come to the kitchen.” May goes to leave, but quickly turns back. “Did you want anything for breakfast? I’ve got stuff for omelets.”

Peter shrugs. “I’m good with anything,” he says, though his lack of an appetite says otherwise. He knows he won’t eat much, if anything. She shoots him a thumbs up before leaving the room.

The second she’s gone, Peter flops back down on the bed, groaning. He’d hoped to lay in bed all day, sleeping off the fight from last night. He still couldn’t believe he’d let his emotions get the better of him like that.

 _Never again._ He promised himself that last night. He wouldn’t let himself express emotion unless he knew he wouldn’t break.

Peter hops out of bed, slipping into a pair of sweats and a black shirt with a silly dinosaur pun on it. After a quick stop in the bathroom to pee and wash his face, he steps out into the living room—and stops dead in his tracks.

Sitting at the kitchen table, a cup of coffee in hand, is Happy Hogan. He’s chatting with May, the two of them laughing at something she said.

 _Shit, shit, shit!_ What did he know? Did Karen tell him everything when she called him last night?

Happy locks eyes with him the moment he enters the kitchen. The happiness in his eyes fades, turning stern and concerned.

Yeah, he knows.

“Morning, Peter,” Happy says, taking a sip of coffee. “Busy night last night?”

May turns around, her jaw dropped. “You went out as Spider-Man and didn’t tell me?”

Peter nods. “Yeah, but it’s not a big deal.”

“Of course, it is!” she exclaims, turning back to the bacon sizzling in the pan. “This was your first time going out since… well, you know. We should celebrate tonight.”

“Oh no, it’s fine,” Peter retorts. He can feel Happy’s gaze on him, the daggers in his eyes. Peter stands and heads to the fridge, grabbing a spare cup from the sink and pouring himself some orange juice.

“That’s actually what I wanted to talk to you about,” Happy says. “Your first patrol.”

They stare at each other in silence, an odd vibe filling the room. Clearly, May feels it, because she quickly finishes up Peter’s omelet and sets it on the table. “Well, I’ll leave you two to chat,” she says. “I gotta finish getting ready for work.” She walks over to Happy, setting her hand on his shoulder. “Great to see you again, Happy.” Then, she makes her leave, shutting the door to her bedroom.

Peter sips his juice. “So, what brings you here?” he says nonchalantly, sitting in front of the omelet that he knows he won’t eat.

Happy narrows his eyes. “I think you know.” He pulls out his phone, tapping on the screen before showing it to Peter. His stomach tightens as he reads the headline of the article on display.

_Spider-Man or Dangerous Copycat? Man left beaten and tied up in Spider-Man’s signature spider-web._

“That was you, wasn’t it,” Happy says. It’s not a question. “This is what Karen was calling me about.” He leans forward, crossing his arms. “What happened?”

 _No feelings._ Peter shrugs. “I stopped the bad guy. Isn’t that what I’m supposed to do?”

Happy purses his lips. “I just didn’t expect you to be back patrolling so soon after…” His voice trails off. “I mean, it’s hard for me to even go to work in the morning knowing he won’t be there. Every morning, I wake up expecting a long, annoying text from him about what his plans are for the day, what Pepper needs to get done at the office, if I need to pick up anything for Morgan. But it’s never there.” He pauses for a moment, locking eyes with Peter. “I don’t want you to jump into something you’re not ready for, you know? It’s hard for me, but I have to do it because it’s work. But you… you don’t have to go back to being Spider-Man if you’re not ready.”

He reaches across the table, placing a gentle hand on Peter’s arm. “I don’t know if this guy mentioned about something about Tony or the fact that you were gone for five years or what, but to me this shows you might not be emotionally ready for patrol yet. And that’s okay, Peter. If you want to talk, I’m just a phone call away.” Happy shrugs. “Truth be told, I might be the _only_ person who understands what you’re going through.”

For a moment, _just_ a moment, Peter feels a twinge of empathy in his chest. He knows _exactly_ how Happy feels. Those first few days after were horrible; Peter kept hoping he’d wake up from a terrible dream. But he never did. He quickly pushes those emotions back down before they threaten to surface, staring at Happy with a dead look in his eyes.

Peter stands. “I’m sorry you came all this way, Happy, but I’m fine. Stop checking up on me. I’m _fine._ ” He pushes in his chair and heads to his bedroom, leaving his breakfast, and a protesting Happy, behind.

* * *

A couple of weeks after Happy’s visit, he snaps at May.

In his opinion, it wasn’t anything big. He’d been out on patrol on a school night, and he’d stayed out a bit past his curfew. Unfortunately, it wasn’t the first time this had happened since he started going out as Spider-Man again. He snuck back into his room through the window at a quarter to midnight (his curfew for patrol on school nights is 11 p.m.) only to find her sitting on his empty bed, her arms crossed.

“So, when we first discussed this whole ‘Spider-Man’ thing, we came to an agreement. You’d be back by 11:00 on school nights and 1:00 on weekends.” She shakes her head. “Peter, this is the fourth time in the past few weeks that you’ve come in late. And don’t you dare try to argue with me. I know you’re staying out late on purpose. What’s going on?”

Peter shrugs. “Lost track of time,” he says nonchalantly.

May narrows her eyes. “I don’t believe you,” she argues. “Peter, you have to talk to me.”

Turning away from her, Peter opens a drawer to pull out some shorts and a thin shirt to sleep in. “Sorry if you don’t believe me, but that’s your own problem.”

He hears a scoff. “Excuse me?”

Before, Peter wouldn’t even _dream_ of saying something like that to May. Though she has a soft, gentle exterior, she has the ability to strike the fear of God into even the strongest of men. She can be downright _scary_ when she’s mad. Luckily, Peter had only seen that side of May a few times in his life. He can tell just based on the tone of her voice that May is about to lay into him. Before, Peter would feel the muscles in his stomach tighten with fear.

But, this isn’t the same Peter.

“You heard me,” he says, returning his attention to her.

May looks away for a moment, pursing her lips. When she meets his eyes again, he sees disappointment stirring in her eyes. “Look, Peter,” she starts, rising to her feet. “I understand that you’re going through some hard times right now. You’re readjusting to being Spider-Man, you’re grieving, you’re learning to live in this new world. But that does _not_ give you the right to speak to me like that. You may be a superhero, but _I_ am still your guardian.”

Peter feels rage building in his chest, fiery and intense.

“Now, I’m going to give you one more chance to tell me the truth this time,” May says, raising her chin to look him dead in the eye. Even though he’s a few inches taller than her, the look in her eyes makes him feel slightly smaller. “Why have you been staying out past curfew? What’s going on?”

“I don’t have to tell you anything,” Peter says, his voice rising. “Would you just stop breathing down my neck all the time and _leave me alone_?!”

May actually takes a step back, blinking rapidly, her eyes suddenly shimmering more than usual. It’s a moment before she speaks again.

“You _know_ you can talk to me, okay? You _know that._ So until you decide to tell me what’s going on in that head of yours, you’re grounded. That means no Spider-Man. You go to school, you come home, you _stay_ home until the next day. Is that understood?”

In response, Peter strips of his Spider-Man suit, dropping the clothes he was going to wear to sleep, and lays bed, throwing the covers over his body and facing away from May. He hears her walk to the door. She pauses for a moment before she shuts the door behind her, Peter focusing on her footsteps as they recede.

The next night, he ignores her demand and goes out as Spider-Man anyway. She doesn’t say anything when he climbs into his room. As he falls asleep, his enhanced hearing picks up the sound of her quiet sobs.

* * *

The longer Peter suppresses his emotions, the easier it becomes.

It’s surprising. Peter knows it’s probably not healthy to keep his feelings bottled up inside, but he can’t help it. It feels so _good_ not to cry or be wracked with guilt anytime Tony’s name is mentioned. He isn’t _happy_ , per se. He thinks it’s better than feeling downcast though, as if his grief might drag him down into a pit of darkness.

Peter just feels empty. Hollow. Cold.

But with this new method of dealing with his grief something he hadn’t anticipated.

Refusing to acknowledge his bottled-up emotions has changed the way he acts as Spider-Man.

He still saves people, of course. Spider-Man is still the good guy!

Peter just does it… a bit more recklessly than before.

Despite not wanting to feel emotions such as sorrow and grief, he still wants to feel… _something._ One night, after ripping someone from a vehicle following a carjacking, the carjacker turned and punched Peter right on the jawline. As pain danced in his head, his jaw throbbing, the guy lands another punch to Peter’s eye.

And Peter, surprisingly, had never felt more _alive._

He let the guy get a few more punches in before he fought back; the guy was on the brink of unconsciousness when Peter tied him up with webbing, his face swollen and covered in blood and bruises.

It happens again the next time he patrols, and the time after that, and again after that. He lets the bad guys beat and punch and kick him until he feels his skin splitting and bruises forming, and then he launches into battle, beating them back almost to a pulp.

Peter starts doing other crazy things, too.

One night, he swings up to the tallest building in Queens, staring out at the city he loves. He listens to the late-night traffic, cars honking and tires screeching. He hears the quiet hum of conversation throughout the city; though he could definitely focus in on a few conversations, he instead listens to the sound of all talking going on at once. He stares up at the sky, seeing stars twinkling above.

_I wonder if Tony is watching._

Peter steps up on the ledge of the roof, his eyes on the sky.

Then, he spreads his arms wide, and lets himself fall.

Peter can only describe falling through the air as _exhilarating._ The ground below grows ever closer as the wind rushes by, his ears popping as he approaches. And, just when he’s past the point of no return, he turns in the air and shoots a web, watching it fly and latch onto the same building he fell from. The web tightens just as he’s mere feet from the street, and he swings himself into the sky. He spends that night swinging around the borough, sometimes getting way too close to the cars driving by.

But it’s _thrilling._ He returns to the same building a few nights later to do the same thing. One night, he even does it from the Brooklyn Bridge, letting himself fall before saving himself at the last second.

It’s an odd routine that he maintains, but it keeps him sane. He rarely feels grief, rarely mourns when he hears the words ‘Tony Stark’ or ‘Iron Man’. However, he longs to feel _something._ Doing reckless, negligent things is the only time he really feels anything.

His actions don’t go unnoticed by those around him. He doesn’t let May see him while his bruises heal. In turn, she rarely speaks to him; their conversations are brief. MJ and Ned see his injuries that take longer to heal, but they don’t say anything; Ned simply stares at him with questioning, sad eyes, while MJ averts her eyes, her lips pursed in anger. Happy tried calling him a few times after his visit, but Peter thinks he got the idea when he didn’t call him back.

Peter doesn’t let himself wonder what Tony would think of his actions. He doesn’t think of Tony at all. He just thinks about himself, what he thinks is best for his mental health, what he wants.

* * *

“Is that _another black_ eye?”

Peter rolls his eyes before turning from his locker, finding MJ and Ned gazing at him with concern. “Congrats, MJ. You’re observant.”

“Cut the shit, Peter,” she snaps, venom lacing her words. “What the _hell_ has been up with you lately?”

Ned speaks up. “You’re not eating, you’re skipping school. I’ve heard you’re letting criminals beat you almost senseless before you even bother fighting back. We’re worried about you.”

Peter averts his gaze, focusing on the shadows in his locker. Maybe he should tell his friends what’s been happening with him over the past few weeks. Maybe he should tell them how he wakes up feeling empty, a hollow shell of who he was before his mentor died right in front of him. Maybe he should tell them that the reason he’s letting this happen, the reason he’s throwing himself into dangerous situations, is to feel something. _Anything._

He _hates_ feeling like this. But, at the same time, he _longs_ for it. He _wants_ the emptiness, the darkness that surrounds him on the daily, shielding him from feeling and emotion like a blanket. Then, he won’t feel sad. He won’t feel like his world is falling apart around him, crushing him to death.

“If you’re not careful, someone’s gonna rip off your mask and share a picture of your face all over the internet,” MJ says.

Peter laughs humorlessly. “And why should I care?”

Ned shakes his head. “You’re gonna get yourself killed, Peter.”

Peter can see his eyes are glistening more than normal. If this had happened just a few months ago, before everything happened, Peter would’ve given his best friend a hug, told Ned not to worry about him. But, he’s not the same Peter he was before the Decimation.

He’s not sure when he’ll see that Peter again.

“Again, why should I care?” he responds.

MJ purses her lips. “He wouldn’t be happy about this. Tony wouldn’t like what you’re doing to yourself, Peter.”

He flinches at the sound of _his_ name, slamming his locker shut. “Well, _he_ isn’t here now, is he?” Peter shouts. He looks at his friends. MJ looks pissed, disappointed. Ned just looks sad, not even able to make eye contact with Peter.

“Just leave me alone.” He doesn’t wait for a response. He turns on his heel and walks toward Spanish class, leaving them behind.

* * *

It wasn’t supposed to happen.

The former CEO of Oscorp Industries, Norman Osborn, had resurfaced. Peter had already fought him as the Green Goblin before, but it had almost ended horribly for Peter. If Tony hadn’t gotten there in time to help finish him off, well, Peter doesn’t want to think about what might’ve happened.

Osborn must’ve been experimenting with some sort of new enhancement formula to increase his strength. It had worked, apparently, because Peter was getting _destroyed._

Peter had heard the screams as he was walking to the train after school. It was very faint, but his hearing picked it up. He quickly ran off, finding an empty alleyway to prepare for battle. He webbed his backpack to the side of a dumpster, pulled his coveted Iron Spider suit reactor, and… hesitated. He hadn’t worn the Iron Spider suit since… Tony’s death. It was always with him, even when he wore his original suit (which, on this day, he conveniently left at home). There was a sharp pain in his chest as he stared at the small spider in his hand. All he could think about is Tony telling FRIDAY to launch the pod holding this suit, falling into Tony’s arms as he and the suit faded into dust (a memory he couldn’t actually remember, but that he dreamed), dropping to his knees in front of Tony’s charred form in the same suit, thinking of all the things he wanted to tell him and thank him for but unable to find the words to do so. Tears began to blur his vision. He hadn’t let himself think of Tony like this for so long.

Another scream. Peter had shaken his head, wiping away the tears.

_I can do this. People need me._

He slapped the reactor onto his chest and tapped it twice, his skin tickling as the nanites conform to his body, forming the suit. Once he heard Karen’s familiar greeting, he threw an arm toward the closest building and flung a web, swinging toward the sound of chaos. It usually took him about twenty minutes to swing from Queens to Manhattan on a normal day. Today, he did it in less than ten.

Now, he’s been in the battle for what feels like _hours._ He’d manage to save lots of civilians and direct even more out of harm’s way. The police were there forming a perimeter around most of the battle zone, keeping more civilians away.

Peter dodges another pumpkin bomb, launching a web grenade in Osborn’s direction. He lands on the edge of a roof and watches as Osborn turns his glider at the last second, just barely managing avoid the web’s outer edges when the grenade explodes.

“Is that really all you’ve got, Goblin?” Peter shouts. “I thought you’d at least put up a real fight this time!”

Osborn responds with maniacal laughter. “Oh Spider-Man, you naïve child. Do you really think I’ve been spending my time in hiding sitting on my ass? No, I’ve been preparing for this battle for years.”

Peter crouches, ready to launch himself off the building if need be. “Then what are you waiting for?”

Another laugh. “This.”

His spider-sense goes crazy.

_DANGERDANGERDANGER—_

He barely has time to turn before there’s giant explosion from behind him. The blast of fire and smoke sends him flying off the roof, but he manages to stick to the side of the building, preventing him from falling.

“Be careful,” Karen starts, “I’m detecting other explosives in the area—”

Suddenly, there’s a _massive_ explosion of smoke from buildings all around him, as if the Green Goblin had planted hundreds of explosives in the area. Peter attaches a web to the wall and lets himself gently down to the ground. He can’t see _anything_ amongst all the gray smoke, which seeps into his suit and smells oddly of… cotton candy? But, the second he breathes in the gray smoke, he feels a strange tingling sensation running up and down his arms and legs and torso. It’s enough to bring him down to a crouching position, his breathing heavy.

“Peter, there’s something happening to my systems, I—” Karen is cut off with an eerie, mechanical garble, and all her systems shut down. The suit goes dark. Peter can still see, but his A.I. is gone. No special web weapons, no analyzing the enemy’s fighting pattern, no retractable spider legs, nothing. _Shit._

Peter stands as the tingling wears off and frantically looks around, his heart pounding in his chest. There’s still heavy smoke in the area; he can barely see a few feet in front of him. Without Karen’s ability to use thermal vision to highlight bodies, he’s basically blind to battle. He hasn’t felt this afraid in a long time. “Goblin!” he shouts, throwing his arms out. “Come out and face me!”

For a moment, there’s nothing but silence. Peter waits for the tickle of his spider-sense in the back of his head, for the hairs on his arms to rise. But nothing happens.

“Come on, where are—”

There’s a flash of green, and Peter is hit violently on his side. He barely has time to sit up before a pumpkin bomb explodes beside him. He feels pain in his right arm and leg and glances down to find that the nanites from his suit are disappearing, leaving his skin exposed. With horror, he comes to another realization.

_Why didn’t my spider-sense warn me?_

Before he can process another thought, the Green Goblin appears from the smoke. He hops down from his glider and strides over to Peter, wrapping his hands around Peter’s throat and lifting him in the air. He can barely breathe; he tries to pry Osborn’s hands off but he’s _too strong._ It’s like his enhanced strength has been sucked from his body. Peter can feel the nanites being crushed, stabbing into his skin before retracting further, revealing more of his street clothes underneath. _How is this possible?_

“You really think I don’t know how you got your powers? That spider came from my lab,” he taunts. He brings Peter closer to his face; Peter can see the brilliance and insanity in his eyes. “After you came along, I began working on a gas to neutralize your powers and deactivate whatever sort of technology you had in your suit. And it worked.” He laughs and flings Peter across the street like a rag doll; Peter hits his back and head _hard_ before falling to the ground, gasping for air. Osborn flies over on his glider, crouching down beside Peter’s limp form. “It seemed to work better than I’d hoped. No senses to incoming danger, no strength, nothing. It may be temporary, but that gives me plenty of time.” He giggles uncontrollably. “I can’t wait to watch you die.” And then, he starts punching.

Peter knows nothing but agony and pain as Osborn punches him again and again, throwing him down the street and pounding into him again. He can feel the nanites chipping away; with no A.I. to control them, they fall apart. He tries to fight back, but with no enhanced strength, Osborn easily breaks his arm before flinging him down the road again. The nanites around his face chip away with each punch, reminding him of when Tony faced Thanos on Titan, how his nanites also struggled to reform to protect him.

Osborn throws him again, and he hits his head _hard_ on the corner of a brick building, feeling a sudden loud crack in the back of his skull. Everything seems to happen in slow motion as he falls to the ground. He sees random glimpses of his life in his mind’s eye: his parents taking him to the park for a picnic, Ben and May comforting him after their deaths, laughing with Ned and MJ at his decathlon practices. He remembers the spider biting him, the day after when he woke up to discover he didn’t need his glasses anymore and that he literally stuck to every surface in the apartment, Ben dying after being shot in an attempted robbery. He sees himself meeting Tony and fighting in Germany with him, battling with Tony in space alongside Doctor Strange and the Guardians, battling again on Earth after being resurrected.

This ride called life has been insane, crazy, sad, happy, and everything in between.

He wishes he could apologize to May for his erratic behavior and tell her he loves her one more time.

Peter lets darkness swallow him whole before he even hits the ground, taking all his pain away with it.

* * *

When Peter opens his eyes, he sees white.

Everything around him is a blinding, pure white. He forces himself to sit up, finding that there’s no pain in his back or head. How did he heal from his injuries that quickly?

Peter glances down. He’s in the first Spider-Man suit from Tony, which is now pure white.

_Where am I?_

As his eyes adjust to the light around him, shapes start to form. He’s sitting on a couch in a lounge area, the furniture all pure white. There are floor-to-ceiling windows in front of him, but beyond the windows lies a thick, white mist. He looks to his right and sees a kitchen area, complete with multiple fridges, a large counter space, and a massive dining table. All white.

And... it all looks so unbelievably familiar. 

Peter finally stands, finding that his legs aren’t shaky like they usually are after a fight. He needs to figure out where he is. He begins exploring, looking for _something,_ a source of color, another person, _anything_ besides this blinding white and lonely space. There’s another lounge area, a massive gym, a row of offices with glass walls.

Not another person in sight.

He continues wandering, climbing down a long staircase and eventually finding himself in a massive room with more floor-to-ceiling windows. He’s hit with a sudden feeling of déjà vu. _There’s something oddly familiar about this room._ He spots, at the other end of the room, a separate area behind another glass door with the Iron Spider suit (again, white) on display, glistening in the intense light.

_Wait._

Peter turns to his right and spots a massive silver _A_ on the wall—the only thing he’s seen so far that isn’t white.

_I’m in the Avengers facility._

“Peter?”

That voice. He would know that voice anywhere. But… how is it possible?

Peter dares to turn toward the sound of the voice, his heart pounding. What he sees brings tears to his eyes in an instant. He lets out a shaky, jagged breath. His legs feel like jelly.

On the other side of the room stands Tony Stark. He’s in a white suit, his hair and goatee styled neatly, just like it always was. He looks concerned, worried. But Peter can’t stop staring at the right side of his face and body. The last time he saw Tony, laying in the fiery rubble of the destroyed Avengers facility, he was on the brink of death. The right side of his body was horribly burned from the impact of his snap, his breathing shallow and harsh. His eyes were glazed over, unfocused as Peter had told him they won, as he apologized and, for the first and last time, called him by his first name. Peter remembered thinking that Tony seemed to be trying so hard to stay alive. He remembered focusing his hearing on the sound of Tony’s heart beating as James Rhodes held him, as Pepper told Tony that she and Morgan would be okay, that he could rest.

He heard Tony’s heart beat for the last time. It was a shockingly loud, powerful sound. The Man of Iron, taking one last stand, going out with a bang. He never heard it beat again.

And now… now Tony is _here._ Standing in front of him. _Alive._

Tony starts shaking his head, a bit frantic. “No, no, no, no, you’re not supposed to be here yet, Peter. It’s too soon.” He crosses the room, and it’s when he’s standing directly in front of Peter that he stops breathing. “What happened?” Tony brings a hand up to lightly touch Peter’s cheek, and at first, Peter flinches. He doesn’t want to get his hopes up. What if this is all a dream? But Tony’s touch is warm, his fingers covered in callouses from lab work just like they were when he was alive.

_He’s here. Tony is really here._

Peter involuntarily lets out a wet, heavy sob, his hands clawing at his mouth as he collapses to his knees. It isn’t until he feels Tony drop beside him, his arms embracing him that he truly breaks. He throws his arms around Tony, squeezing him as if to convince himself further that, yes, Tony is here keeping him grounded. All the emotions from the past few months, the emotions that Peter tried so desperately to keep at bay, the feelings of loss and sorrow that he refused to acknowledge out of fear that they would swallow him whole, come pouring out of him. He’s felt so empty for so long, so scared that this was the last straw for him. He’d lost _three_ father figures in his life. How much more could he take before his entire world collapsed on him?

He isn’t sure how long they stay on the ground, him sobbing into Tony’s shoulder, holding him tight, afraid that he would leave him again. All the while, Tony gently rubs his back, runs his fingers through Peter’s hair, staying silent.

Eventually, his tears run dry, his breathing returns to normal. Tony waits for Peter to pull away from their embrace first, leaving a hand on his shoulder as Peter gazes at him, simply in awe that he’s here.

_He’s here._

“Yeah, I missed you too, kid,” Tony says, giving him a pat on the back.

Peter manages a quiet laugh, hoarse from his heavy sobbing.

Tony clears his throat, rising to his feet, helping Peter up. “Come on, Peter. Let’s have a chat.”

He keeps a hand around Peter’s shoulders as he leads him through the facility. Peter has another flash of déjà vu, remembering back to his sophomore year when Tony first invited him to become an Avenger. They’d walked in the same position, Tony with an arm draped around Peter’s shoulders, as he thanked him for stopping Vulture.

Tony leads Peter to a room similar to the same sitting area he’d woken up in, but it’s larger and has a kitchenette and separate lab space. _Tony’s rooms in the facility._ He waits for Peter to sit down before following suit, taking the spot right beside him.

“Is this a dream, sir?” Peter asks, his voice gruff from crying.

Tony’s brow furrows. “If it is, I’m dreaming in the afterlife.”

“So, it’s not a dream?” Peter questions, raising an eyebrow.

“I’d say no,” Tony says. “Think of it as a ‘near-death-experience’ where you’re very close to the afterlife, but not quite there.”

“Where are we, Mr. Stark? I know we’re in the facility, obviously. But like…” he points to the windows, the clouds and haze still thick. “ _Where_ are we?”

Tony purses his lips, crossing his arms over his chest. “I’d say we’re… _beyond_. Some place in between, you know. Which is odd considering about ten minutes ago, I was _beyond_ the beyond.”

Peter smirks. “Was that a Spongebob quote, sir?”

“Morgan used to watch it,” Tony sighs. “Some things stay with you even beyond life.”

Realization hits him suddenly. _Near-death-experience, afterlife, beyond._ “Am… am I… dead?”

Tony sighs. “Well, you’re not ‘technically’ dead,” he says, using air quotes. “But you _are_ dying. Which doesn’t make sense to me at all. Kid, I need to know _why_ you’re here. What happened?”

There’s a lump forming in Peter’s throat, the same lump that’s been there since Tony died. “I did something stupid,” he finally says once he gets the courage to speak. “I’ve been _so_ stupid.” He quickly recounts the last few months to Tony. How he’d pushed away his friends, how he’d walked out on Happy, how he snapped at May and refused to listen to her. How he’d been reckless, negligent, unconcerned for his own safety. How he’d ended up here after a fight with Green Goblin in Manhattan; the last thing he remembered was being thrown against a brick wall, hitting his head _hard._ When he woke again, he was here.

And as he spoke, he shed more tears. Talking to Tony… it brought back memories. He remembered those nights during his _real_ internship with Stark Industries, when he and Tony stayed in the lab working late. Tony always bugged him about getting a girlfriend, while Peter mocked Tony for taking so long to propose to Pepper. They’d order takeout and watch lame movies when their work was finished, Peter sometimes staying at the facility depending on the hour.

Peter missed Tony. He missed him so much.

When Peter is finished, Tony doesn’t speak for a moment. He stares at Peter, his eyes gleaming and full of thought and concern.

“You know, Peter, I wouldn’t call your behavior stupid. Was it reckless? A bit insensitive? Sure. But kid…” He puts a hand on Peter’s shoulder. “You’re grieving. When you’re grieving, it’s okay to act different, to feel different. Everyone grieves differently. Just don’t let it change who you are as a person.” He brings his hand back. “Remember when I told you to not do anything that I would do? This is exactly what I did when I lost my parents. I was upset, and I did reckless things too. But it gets better. I promise. Even if it doesn’t seem like it now, you’ll get through it. I’m always there with you, in spirit.”

Peter nods. “I’m just tired of feeling this way. I forced myself not to feel anything. No grief, no anger. I’m tired of getting upset every time I hear your name.” He looks down at his lap, ashamed. All the things he’d done the past few months, the stupid choices he’d made, his attitude, it’s all creeping up on him. And he feels _terrible._

How can he make up for it?

“And it’s just so unfair for _you_ ,” Peter laments. “You should have had more time with Pepper and Morgan. You should’ve been able to watch her grow up and graduate and take over Stark Industries. You should’ve had the chance to grow old with Pepper and… _god_ , Tony, it’s just not fair.”

Tony doesn’t say anything for a bit. Peter doesn’t mind; he’s just glad to be here with him.

“Can I tell you what was going through my head after the battle?” Peter gulps, nodding. “I knew that was it for me. I could barely hear your words. But I could see you clear as day. All I remember thinking was that I was so glad you were still going to be there. I felt so confident knowing you’d still be there to step up after I was gone, to protect the world. But not too much. And I knew you’d make sure Morgan understands why her father died, maybe not now but in the future, when she’s older. You’ll tell her that I died so that she, and her mom, and you, and Uncle Rhodey and Uncle Happy could live long, happy lives.”

Peter knows he will. He only got to talk to Morgan for a few minutes at Tony’s funeral, but he could tell she was definitely her father’s child. Intelligent, witty, caring. Pepper told him he could come visit anytime.

Maybe he should take advantage of that.

After a moment, Tony sighs, turning his head. Peter notices how rapid his blinking is, how he raises a hand to wipe at his eyes. “And god, kid, there was so much I wanted to say in those last few moments that I couldn’t.” He looks at Peter again, his eyes shining. “I’m so, so proud of you. You’ve grown so much since we first met. You’re not that scrawny young kid I recruited for the fight in Germany all those years ago.” Peter chuckles at that. “I know you’ll be there not only to protect my little girl, but to protect the world. I… I love you, kid.” Peter feels more tears threatening to surface. “I just ask that, when times seem tough and you aren’t sure what to do, remember what I told you in that car after Germany.”

Peter chuckles. “’Don’t do anything I would do, and definitely don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.’”

Tony laughs lightly, rubbing his hands together; Peter remembers seeing him do that any time he felt anxious. Once his laughter ceases, Tony sighs heavily, staring at Peter with wide, concerned eyes. “Peter, I _hate_ that I have to tell you this, but we don’t have much longer.” He pauses for a moment. “You… you can come with me if you want.” Peter’s head shoots up. Tony gestures toward the window, the hazy mist outside. “Out there, that’s something I didn’t believe existed until after death. If you choose to go back, you’re gonna be in a lot of pain for a while, both physically and emotionally. What happened to you down there… I can tell you, right now, they’re not sure if you’re going to wake up. If you go back, you will wake up, but the healing process won’t be fun.

“Or, you can come with me. No more pain, no more grief. You could be with me, and your uncle, and your parents.” Peter feels his heart skip a beat. “I’ve met them, you know. They’re so proud of you, Peter, just as I am.” Tony smiles. “But it’s your decision. I’m sure you know how I feel, but ultimately, it’s up to you.”

For a moment, Peter considers it. He _could_ go with Tony. See Ben again and tell him he’s sorry he couldn’t save him. Reunite with his mom and dad. He missed all of them so much. The thought of never feeling pain again, of being eternally happy… it’s tempting.

But then, his mind starts bringing forth memories that he holds dear to his heart. Building Lego playsets with Ned. Telling MJ about his secret identity. Trying to cook tacos with May and laughing at the mess they made. Flashes of his various adventures as Spider-Man play like a movie in his mind’s eye. Then, he thinks of his dreams and desires. Following in Tony’s footsteps and attending MIT. Dating MJ. Being there for May. Keeping in contact with Pepper and visiting Morgan to tell her all kinds of stories about her dad. Continuing to save the world as Spider-Man.

Peter still has so much to live for. It took almost dying for him to realize that.

“Thanks, Mr. Stark,” Peter eventually says, “but I think I want to go back.”

Tony smiles. “That’s what I hoped you’d say.” He turns to face Peter, gently raising his hand to Peter’s cheek, rubbing another tear Peter hadn’t realized he’d shed.

Peter grins. “I never had the chance to tell you how much you mean to me,” Peter says. “I think that’s one of the reasons I’ve been so lost. I never told you how grateful I am that you picked me to fight by your side in Germany. I just… I love you, Mr. Stark. You became such a father figure to me, and I’m so grateful for that. I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you before.”

Tony’s eyes seem shinier than before; Peter wonders if it’s a trick of the bright light, or if Tony really is holding back tears. “I’m honored that you think of me like that. Funny enough, I thought of you as my own kid, even before I had one of my own.” He smiles. “I love you too, Peter.” Tony leans forward, giving Peter a quick kiss on the forehead before pulling him into another hug.

His time there is nearly over. Peter can feel it. He memorizes this embrace. He needed this. This closure with Tony was exactly what he needed. Before, he felt robbed of a proper goodbye with him. Now, he feels almost at peace. Peter knows there will still be bad days, days when _everything_ reminds him of Tony, and he thinks longing and grief will swallow him whole. But he hopes he remembers this when he goes back. He _needs_ to remember.

“Hey, Pete?” Tony says when he pulls away from their hug. “I need to ask a favor.”

“Anything.”

Tony purses his lips, exhaling heavily. “First of all, if you ever come across Stephen Strange again, tell him to stop moping around like an angsty teenager and stop blaming himself for my death. It wasn’t his fault. I was in my right mind, and I made the choice willingly.”

He pauses for just a moment before shaking his head. “I’m gonna try to get through the next few minutes without crying, and if I do, don’t acknowledge it, okay?” Peter nods, smiling. “Good. Okay, here we go. Tell Happy to finally settle down now that he has time. And, thank him for always being there for me, even when I was a jackass. Use those exact words.” Peter chuckles. “Tell Rhodey that I love him, and nothing will ever replace our years of friendship. Tell him he needs to settle down, too.

“And Pepper, goodness, tell her that I’m so sorry for how it ended, but…” Tony trails off, his voice shaking. “I love her so much, more than she will ever know. And I wouldn’t change a single thing. Our life together was far from perfect, but I wouldn’t trade it for the world. Thank her for making my life complete and for dealing with all my shit. Tell her that… it’s okay if she moves on. Tell her I can’t wait to see her again. Tell her… tell her to take her time.

“And Morgan. Tell her that I love her three thousand. Trust me, she’ll get it,” he says with a laugh. “And tell her that I’m always with her. Always.”

Peter finds himself wiping at his eyes, sniffling. “I will, Mr. Stark. I absolutely will.”

They hug again. Peter finds himself healing bit by bit each time they do so.

“There’s one more thing I have to tell you before you go back,” Tony says. “I was going to give it to you for your birthday, but then, you…” Peter finishes Tony’s sentence in his head. _Then you died._ Tony’s voice trails off for a moment, but then he clears his throat and continues. “Then I decided I’d give it to you this year, if we succeeded in the time heist and bringing all of you back. But, in the case of my death, I told Happy to give it you to in my place. It’s your very own Stark Industries tech lab, right down the road from your apartment in Queens.” Peter’s jaw drops, and Tony laughs again. “You’re not getting it until your birthday. Don’t get too excited. There’s a file in the operating system called ‘ _Back in Black_.’ Take a look at it. I think you’ll like it.”

“I will,” Peter says. “I promise.”

Tony smiles, giving Peter a pat on the back. “Okay, kid, you gotta go back now. I don’t want to see you again for another eighty years, do you understand me?”

Peter nods. “Of course, Mr. Stark.”

“I love you, Peter.” Tony purses his lips, his breathing becoming shaky again. “Live a full life for me, okay? Get married, have lots of kids, maybe name one after me. I’ll see you again.”

Suddenly, a bright light surrounds Peter, his vision going white, then dark again, as Tony’s words echo in his head.

_I’ll see you again._

* * *

When Peter comes swimming back to consciousness, he realizes three things.

One: his eyes aren’t open yet, but he can already tell wherever he is, it is _bright._

Two: he can remember _everything_ he just experienced with Tony. Every single word, every hug, every gentle touch. It’s all _there._

Three: there is some big, bulky, plastic thing in his mouth and throat.

Slowly (and somewhat painfully), Peter opens his eyes. He blinks rapidly as his eyes adjust to the light around him, dark blurry shapes eventually becoming focused and solidified. He’s lying in a bed in a large white room. There’s one figure in the room: a woman sleeping on a navy couch that is far too small for her. Another figure, a man with graying hair in a black suit, sits near her, dozing off as well. May and Happy.

Peter works up the courage to look down at himself. His left arm is in a cast that goes all the way up to his shoulder. His right is covered in all sorts of wires and IVs, all hooked up to a variety of bags and machines. But worst of all is when he glances down at the odd obstruction blocking part of his vision, the thing in his mouth. There’s something giant and plastic covering most of the bottom half of his face, and the longer he stares at it, the more he realizes that he can _feel_ it in his windpipe. He can feel the oxygen entering and exiting his lungs, all powered by a machine. He feels trapped.

And _that’s_ when he starts to panic.

He can’t exactly scream for his aunt, but he doesn’t have to. The moment his heart rate increases, the machine beeping louder and more quickly, May jolts up with a gasp, causing Happy to wake up and nearly fall out of his chair.

For what feels like a long moment, he and May just stare at each other. Her eyes well up with tears in an instant, and he can barely hear her when she mutters, “Peter?”

Peter tries to gulp but finds that he can’t, which only sends him into more of a panic. He breathes rapidly, blinking fast to keep tears of fear away. May is by his side in an instant, shouting for Happy to grab the nurse. She takes his hand in hers, gently stroking his cheek with the other; Peter finds himself leaning into the touch. He missed her so much.

“It’s okay, baby,” she says, her voice shaking. He keeps glancing down at the thing in his mouth then back to her, hoping she gets the message he’s sending. She clearly does, because she gives him a sympathetic look and says, “I know it feels funny, but it was helping you. They’ll get it out of you soon.” He nods weakly, feeling himself calm down a little. It helps that she’s here; he doesn’t know what would’ve done if she wasn’t.

It’s only seconds later when Happy runs back in with two nurses, followed by a woman Peter assumes is the doctor and _Stephen Strange._ He’s in civilian clothes, surprisingly, but the red scarf around his neck stands out against the neutral colors of his shirt and hoodie; that must be the Cloak in disguise.

While the nurses check the machines by his bed, the doctor walks over. “Hi, Peter. My name is Dr. Palmer, but you can call me Christine,” she greets with a warm smile. “You’ve been unconscious for several days, but don’t worry. You’ve been in great hands.” She quickly turns to the nurses and has a brief conversation with them before reverting her attention back to him. “Okay, so far everything is looking great. I’m going to check your vitals, and then we’ll see about getting that ventilator out of you.”

 _Thank God_ , Peter thinks to himself.

Though Christine claims that his vitals are in good shape, it’s still a few hours before the ventilator is removed. It was the strangest sensation Peter has _ever_ felt, but once it’s out, Peter immediately feels so much better. At one point, he tries to talk, but he finds that his throat is raw and sore. Christine explains that this is a side effect of using the ventilator. She gets him a glass of water to sip on, as well as a notepad and pen so he can communicate with them. She also starts experimenting with different kinds of painkillers to help numb the pain while he heals. So far, only one has really had any effect on him.

It’s while Christine is chatting with May that he really has the chance to think about what happened with Tony. Peter keeps thinking about one of the first things he asked him: was that real? Truthfully, he still can’t tell. But _god_ , it felt real. And if he really almost died… Tony had mentioned he was having a near-death experience. He’s read of people who almost died seeing loved ones who had passed, or seeing their own body lying on a table in the operating room, or visiting Heaven. Was it really crazy of him to believe it was… _real_?

It has to be real, he decides. The emotions he felt, the things he’s still feeling when he thinks about it… that’s _real._ Peter got closure with Tony, his father figure, who had died so suddenly. And while Peter doesn’t exactly feel happy yet, he feels more content and peaceful than he has in months.

Now, the decision is: should he tell May and Stephen and Happy about what he saw? Or should he keep it to himself?

Eventually, Christine leaves the room, and Peter finds himself alone with May, Happy, and Doctor Strange. It’s an odd silence, Peter realizes. All three are staring at him.

Happy is the first to speak. “Before you start panicking, Peter, I need to tell you that the Stark Industries legal team is here right now. Every single person who saw or operated on you is signing an NDA. If one of them so much as whispers a word about your identity, they’ll be sued faster than they can say ‘Spider-Man.’”

Peter grabs the notepad, writing his thoughts out before showing the group. _How did I end up here?_

“I was the one who found you,” Stephen says. “Your fight with the Green Goblin wasn’t too far from the Sanctum. Wong or I would’ve helped, but he was in Kamar Taj, and I was in the middle of an intense ritual spell. The Goblin was long gone by the time I found you. If I hadn’t felt for your pulse, I would’ve assumed you were dead based on the puddle of blood you were laying in. I was able to Portal you here, and I _only_ let Christine operate on you. She’s the only doctor I trust in this godforsaken place.” He pauses for a moment, his gaze falling to his feet for a moment. “Christine told me if I hadn’t found you when I did, you’d probably be dead. You were _so_ close to dying, Peter. When I found you, your heartbeat was very slow, and your breathing was extremely irregular. Not to mention the blood loss. On top of a broken arm and broken ribs, you had a massive gash in your head, fractured skull, and bleeding on the brain.”

Peter glances down at his body, using his good hand to feel his torso; sure enough, there’s a brace wrapped around his chest. He lifts his hand to his head, feeling bandages and gauze he hadn’t realized were there until that moment.

_Tony was right. I could have died._

Stephen clears his throat. “Luckily, whatever the Green Goblin did to neutralize your enhanced healing began to wear off just before surgery. Unluckily, you were healing while Christine and her team were operating on you. Your arm started healing incorrectly, so they had to break it again so they could set it properly. The rate at which you were healing—and had been healing up until you woke up today—was very slow, but you were healing all the same. They had some issues with anesthesia; you definitely got more than most people do. But worst of all, your traumatic brain injury was so bad that you would just stop breathing at times. That’s why you were on the ventilator. Once you were out of surgery and properly bandaged, it was just a matter of waiting for you to wake up. After your injuries heal completely, which should only take a day or two, they’ll be able to take off the bandages and casts and let you go home.”

Goodness, Peter can’t _imagine_ what his aunt must’ve been going through. He writes something else down and holds it up. _How long was I out?_

May’s gaze turns sympathetic. “You were unconscious for four days, sweetie.” And wow, Peter was _not_ expecting that. He jots a sentence down and shows her.

_I’m so sorry._

“It’s okay, baby,” she says, smiling. “You’re okay now. That’s all that matters. You just need to focus on recovering.”

Stephen and Happy hang out in his room until visiting hours are over. After that, it’s just May and Peter. A nurse brings in a bowl of soup for Peter, while May sits on the couch scrolling through channels on the small TV in the room. The soup is lukewarm and very salty, but Peter manages to scarf it down.

His throat, surprisingly, is already feeling much better. He gulps, finding that there’s still pain, but not as much as earlier. Another sip of water later, Peter feels ready to attempt talking again.

Peter sighs, then whispers, “Aunt May.” His voice is hoarse and very quiet, but she hears him. Her head whips around, and she’s by his bed in seconds, taking one of his hands in hers.

“Hi, honey,” she says. “Don’t strain yourself, okay? You can try talking tomorrow if you want.”

Shaking his head, he says, “No, I’m fine.”

May sniffles, leaning forward and pressing a quick kiss to his temple. “Okay, sweetie.”

As she gazes at him, her eyes bright and full of love, Peter feels tears springing to his eyes. He has been such a _jerk_ to her. All that time after Tony’s death, when he didn’t want to feel anything, he was being so stupid. He barely spoke to her, the woman who gave up everything to raise him. Once, after Ben died, Peter had a terrifying nightmare; he relived his uncle’s death over and over again, and he was powerless to stop it. May came running into his room, comforting him and whispering sweet nothings into his ear. She said something that, although it seemed small and irrelevant at the time, has resonated with him ever since. “It’ll always be the two of us against the world, Peter. No matter what life throws at us, we need to be there for each other.” And here she was, wanting to help him grieve over Tony, and he just pushed her away.

All of his emotions come crashing down at once, and he can’t help the painful, involuntary sob that escapes his lips. May jumps on the bed in an instant, wrapping her arms around him as tears start to flow down his cheeks. They stay like that for what feels like hours, months’ worth of tears pouring out of Peter. He can’t ever do this to himself again. All of the emotions he’s kept stifled down are coming out of him at once, and he finds himself heavily sobbing.

Eventually, his eyes run dry. Peter finds himself pulling his face away from his aunt’s shoulder, sheepishly staring at the wet stains on her shirt.

“Sorry about that,” Peter says, his throat feeling less painful already. Thank god for his enhanced healing.

May keeps her arms around him, smiling. “You don’t need to apologize, honey.” She settles back into the bed, letting Peter cuddle against her side. They sat like this all the time when he was younger, especially in those months after his parents died. Back then, Peter thought that his aunt was shielding him from the horrors of the world, from the nightmares and sadness and fear. In this moment, he wishes he had that childhood naivety again.

They sit there in silence, eyes on the small TV in the room, watching as future homeowners explore a variety of possible homes. It feels like a typical Saturday night in the Parker household… just without the whole hospital and injuries thing. Peter is barely paying attention to the television, however, instead thinking about his aunt. Why hasn’t she said anything about his behavior? Is she waiting for him to start that conversation? He knows that now is the time to apologize… but he’s _so_ scared.

It’s now or never.

“Aunt May,” Peter starts. She looks down at him, her eyes gentle. “I’m so sorry for the way I’ve been acting, the way I’ve been treating you, all of it.” He sighs, feeling tears threatening to surface again. “I… I guess I thought that by ignoring my grief, I’d be better off. But I became such a dick. I don’t know what I can do to make it up to you, but I’ll do _anything._ I’m so, _so_ sorry.”

It’s not the long, solemn apology he’d envisioned, but he’s got some extremely powerful painkillers in his system; he can’t think very straight.

May doesn’t say anything for a moment. She gazes at him, her eyes glistening. “First off, Peter, you are not a dick. In fact, you are the _furthest_ thing from a dick. Don’t _ever_ call yourself that again. And, it’s okay. Was _everything_ you did okay? Absolutely not. But you’re grieving over someone who became a father figure to you. I remember how hard it was for me when my dad died. You’ve lost _three_ father figures. I can’t even imagine what you’re going through. But Peter, I need to apologize too. I wasn’t there for you when you needed someone. I should’ve known that you needed help. So, it sounds like we’ve both been in the wrong.”

Peter gulps. “What can I do to make it right?”

May purses her lips, her eyes squinting in thought. “I think that as long as we’re honest with each other, and if you talk to me when you’re needing help, we’ll be good. That sound okay?”

Peter swallows the lump in his throat, unable to speak. All he can do is nod, wrapping his arms around his aunt in a hug again. He wants to tell her about what he saw. He wants to tell her about his experience with Tony, how real it felt, how he feels content with it all.

But first, he needs proof.

* * *

The next day, Stephen stops by again, insisting that May go home and shower. May was extremely hesitant to leave Peter, but after Christine checked on him and said he’d be able to leave in a couple of days, she finally goes.

They sit there in silence for a while, Peter tapping away on his phone while Stephen reads a book. Eventually, Stephen closes the book and turns to Peter.

“I talked to Christine,” he starts. “She said if you ever need a doctor for any injury, you’re more than welcome to come here.” He chuckles. “She actually insisted on it. ‘You never know if he’ll have another injury like this again,’ she said. Believe me when I say she’s the most trustworthy person I know. She’ll keep your secret, and not just because Hogan made her sign that NDA.”

Peter chuckles. “I’ll keep that in mind.” He pauses for a moment. “Stephen… when I was out, I had an odd dream that seemed extremely real. I… I saw Tony.” He notices Stephen’s shoulders tense up when he says the name. “I _saw_ him. We hugged, we talked. And it feels so _real_ but… is there a way you can check? Like with magic?”

Stephen visibly gulps. “It sounds like it was just an intense dream, Peter.”

“ _Please_ , Stephen.” He stares at the wizard with begging eyes. “Please. I just have to know.”

For a minute, Stephen doesn’t say anything. Peter can’t tell what’s wrong, but Stephen definitely seems hesitant. Then, finally, “Okay.”

Stephen stands up and approaches Peter, putting a shaky finger under his chin and moving his head so they’re looking each other directly in the eye. “This spell is a bit odd, but it’s the only one I can think of right now. I’m going to search your mind. The spell will separate dreams from memories, so I’ll be able to tell what’s real or not. Is that okay?”

Peter nods.

Stephen manages a smile. “Then we’ll get started. Some orange mandalas will form around your head, but they’re completely harmless.” Stephen places his hands on either side of Peter’s head. “Keep eye contact with me the entire time, okay? The spell won’t work if you don’t.” Peter doesn’t even realize he’s started until he sees Stephen’s face light up with a faint orange hue. It’s odd; he can feel another presence in his mind, but he can’t quite reach it.

It isn’t but minutes later when Stephen releases Peter’s head, breathing heavily, his eyes glistening.

“Did… did you see it?” Peter asks. Stephen opens his mouth, clearly wanting to say something but unable to speak. “He… told me to tell you to stop blaming yourself. That it was his choice. Did you see that?”

Stephens steps away from Peter, his breathing uneven. “Will… will you excuse me for a moment, Peter?” He doesn’t wait for a response; he practically sprints out of the room.

Peter gets the answer to his question when he uses his enhanced hearing to zero in on Stephen’s receding footsteps. He hears a door slam, followed by the sound of quiet crying.

_Stephen wouldn’t do that if it wasn’t real._

Peter can’t help the sudden wave of relief that washes over him, tears coming with it. Everything he experienced with Tony in the white Avengers facility, the conversations and the hugs and the gentle touches… _it all happened._

_It’s real._

With a smile, Peter realizes this is the happiest he’s felt in months. He can’t wait to tell May and the others what he saw (now that he has proof that he’s not crazy).

 _Tony_ , he thinks, _I don’t know if you can read my thoughts where you are, but just know I’m going to do everything you said. I’m going to live my life to the fullest. And I’m definitely naming a kid after you, sir._

_I’m going to live this life for the two of us._

* * *

**_Eight months later…_ **

“Do we have everything?” May asks, a bit of panic in her voice.

Peter opens the trunk of the car for the third time (he thinks; it could be more than that), listing off the necessary items for the event later that day. Once he’s done, May narrows her eyes and nods.

“Let’s go,” she says. She hops in the passenger seat, Peter reluctantly taking the back seat. He closes the door and turns just in time to see May lean over the console toward the driver’s seat, giving the man sitting there—none of other than _Happy freaking Hogan_ —a kiss. Peter just rolls his eyes.

“All right, one five-year-old’s birthday party coming up,” Happy says. He kicks the car into drive, and they’re off toward the Stark lake house. Peter plugs in his earbuds, pulling up his classic rock playlist (that Tony would be extremely proud of), and turns to stare out the window, watching the city whiz by. He begins to reminisce on what’s happened since he was brought back, since he left the hospital after almost being killed in battle.

Was it a bit weird when Peter came home from patrol one night a few months ago and discovered May and Happy cuddled on the couch watching a lame rom-com? Absolutely. Peter didn’t even know they’d been _talking_ , let alone dating. But apparently, Peter’s moody attitude after Tony’s death had done some good. On the morning that Happy came over to talk to Peter about the mysterious man beaten up and left in webs, she and Happy had really hit it off. She felt something, she told Peter, but it never really hit her until they were in the hospital together, waiting for Peter to wake up.

“I haven’t felt that way about anyone since Ben died,” she explained the day after Peter saw them on the couch. “He makes me happy in a similar yet very different way than Ben did. Will it last forever? I don’t know. I just know in my heart that this feels _right._ ” She gave him a serious look. “But Peter, if it’s weird or it becomes weird, I need you to let me know. I know you two had an… interesting relationship before I even knew you were Spider-Man.”

Peter had smiled. “Aunt May, I just want you to be happy. And if Happy makes you happy, then I support it, one hundred percent.” And that was that. Happy was over a few times a week for dinner. He wasn’t spending the night, as far as Peter knew, but it’s not like he would mind. He meant what he said. As long as May is happy, then he’s happy.

He’d gone back and made up for the dumb things he’d done. He worked things out with MJ and Ned, and now things were back to normal. He’d started going out on nightly patrols, saving cats from trees and stopping the occasional bad guy. Things were back to normal in that part of his life, and he couldn’t have been happier.

One thing that had changed was how much time he spent at the Stark lake house. It wasn’t but a few weeks after he was released from the hospital when he called Happy and asked if he could give him a ride over there. He’d contacted Pepper to make sure it was okay. By the time they arrived, Peter’s stomach was in knots, and he was holding back tears.

Last time he was at the lake house, it was for Tony’s funeral.

Peter remembered knocking at the door, seeing Pepper answer, a little shadow of a girl hidden behind her legs. She gladly welcomed him in and reintroduced him to Morgan since it had been a few months. Pepper and Morgan looked like they were doing very well, considering they’d just lost a member of their family. Pepper offered Peter a drink before they sat down on the couch in the living room, watching Morgan play with her toys on the carpet.

They talked about what had been going on in their lives over the past few months. Pepper discussed how Morgan has been doing and what was going on with Stark Industries; she also apologized for being unable to visit Peter in the hospital (she had sent some lovely flowers, though). Peter… didn’t really have much to talk about considering he’d been an emotionless, reckless blob since that final battle. It was apparent that they were ignoring the obvious elephant in the room, but neither was ready to address that. Once Pepper returned from putting Morgan down for her nap, however, they could both feel it. It was time.

Pepper had gulped. “How have you _really_ been doing, Peter?’

Peter pursed his lips. “I… I just really miss him. And I expressed my grief in the worst possible way. I shoved it all down and refused to acknowledge it because I just could not stop _crying._ Every little thing set me off. I ended up pushing away my aunt and my friends and even Happy because I was not acting like myself, and I was so, so scared. But it all came to a head a couple of weeks ago when I almost died.”

He paused, exhaling deeply. She deserved to know. Tony had a message for her, and he would deliver.

“Pepper, this is gonna sound _crazy_ , but I promise you, it’s real. I asked Stephen Strange to perform a spell to see if it had actually happened, that it wasn’t a dream, and he all but confirmed it. It’s gonna sound insane, but bear with me, okay?”

Peter looked her in the eyes. Her brow was furrowed, her eyes flickering as she studied him, his body language, his nervous movements. But, finally, she nodded.

He took a deep breath and started telling his story. Peter began with the fight, discussing how his powers were neutralized, how he remembered hitting his head and seeing his life flash before his eyes before he fell unconscious. He talked about waking up the white Avengers Facility, how he explored, and how, finally, he saw Tony. The moment he said his name, Pepper brought her hands to her mouth, breathing heavily. Peter continued, leaving out the exact details of their conversation, but telling her that Tony had a message for her.

“Tony wanted me to tell you that he loves you so much, that he wouldn’t change a thing about your life together. He wanted me to thank you, because you completed him. He said you can move on, if you want. And…” Peter exhaled again, blinking away tears. “He said to take your time, and that he can’t wait to see you again.” He couldn’t work up the courage to look at her just yet. “It wasn’t long after that when I woke up in the hospital.”

Peter remembered keeping his gaze on his lap. He could hear Pepper’s quiet crying, her breathing quick and sharp. But, before he could say anything else, he felt two petite but strong arms wrap around his shoulders. Peter had told himself he wouldn’t cry during his visit, but this simple yet kind gesture sent him over the edge; he turned and embraced her, crying into her shoulder.

At one point, Pepper started talking to him, her voice hoarse from crying but confident. “He loved you, Peter, did you know that? He loved you so much. You were as much of a son to him as Morgan was his daughter.”

They ended up spending the next few hours sitting on the couch talking about life, about Tony, about Peter’s plans for the future. There was laughter, and there were tears. Eventually, Pepper invited him to stay for dinner, and it was while they were in the kitchen chatting, Pepper stirring a pot of pasta, when little Morgan woke up. She was very shy at first, but eventually, she warmed up to Peter; by the end of the night, she was sitting in his lap begging for hugs. He left that evening feeling content, happy, and with a promise to return to visit more often.

Peter may have taken that a bit literally, he now thinks, because Pepper told him Morgan was constantly asking when he’d be back. He’d spent the night there on several occasions, staying up way too late with Morgan watching Disney movies and building pillow forts. One night, after Morgan had fallen asleep in the middle of _The Lion_ King, Pepper said that Morgan had started calling Peter her big brother. He’d asked if that was a problem, and she said absolutely not. “I think it’s good that she’s bonding with someone else again, rather than being with just me and Happy all the time. I don’t know for sure, but it might be making things easier for her.”

When Pepper was planning her daughter’s party, Morgan made sure that Peter and May had an invitation; she’d put it in the mailbox herself. He remembered when May showed it to him; it had been addressed to “May and Peter (my big brother) Parker.” (Yes, he cried.)

Now, Peter finds that he can’t wait to spend more time with Morgan. Just as she believes he’s her brother, he thinks of her as the little sister he never had. She’s intelligent, spunky, caring, and funny, a perfect combination of her mother and father. He wonders if Tony is keeping an eye on them, rolling his eyes when they prank Happy or beaming in admiration when they build the _perfect_ pillow fort. Peter still thinks it’s so unfair that Tony won’t be around to watch her hit those big milestones in life. But when he thinks about that, he remembers what Tony said to him, how he was okay with dying knowing that Peter will be there for her. And of course, Peter plans on staying around as long as Morgan will have him.

His life has changed so much over the last eight months. He wouldn’t trade those changes for the world.

He just wishes Tony were here.

It isn’t too long before they pull up to the lake house. It’s a crisp, chilly autumn day. The leaves surrounding the house are starting to change to beautiful shades of red and orange and yellow. High up in the sky, the sun shines over the lake, the water shimmering. There are already several cars parked when they pull up, but it’s apparent that everyone is mingling inside.

Peter puts away his earbuds and hops out of the car, marching around to the trunk. May meets him there, handing him the large box containing a rainbow unicorn cake from Pepper’s favorite bakery in the city. She and Happy grab the two presents wrapped in unicorn wrapping paper, and once the trunk is closed, the three of them head for the door.

The minute they step inside, Peter does a double take. The entire downstairs of the house has been transformed into a rainbow unicorn wonderland. There are unicorns all over the walls, streamers of every color of the rainbow hanging down from the ceiling. And there’s _so much glitter._

Tony would _love_ it.

Pepper rounds the corner and greets them with a warm smile. She’s got a unicorn headband on, glitter covering parts of her cheeks, and he has to bite back a laugh. She rolls her eyes. “Don’t say a word. Just go put the cake in the kitchen, Peter.”

Giving Pepper a quick salute, Peter marches toward the kitchen, setting the cake down on the counter. Along the way, he’s greeted by a few familiar faces. James Rhodes and Bruce Banner quietly chat at the dining room table. Wanda Maximoff sits in the living room with Stephen, the two of them using their powers to entertain a group of kids (though Morgan isn’t one of them… where could she be?). Scott Lang and Hope Van Dyne are in the kitchen chowing down on food. Even Maria Hill is there talking with a few of Pepper’s friends from Stark Industries. Some Potts family members are there, but Peter is surprised to find that there aren’t more Avengers at the party. After everything they went through during that final battle, Peter figured more of them would show up for the two people who lost such an important member of their family.

It’s almost disappointing.

“ _PETER_!”

Before he can react, Peter is attacked at the hips by an unseen force, tiny arms wrapping around his body and jumping up and down. He smiles, looking down to find wide brown eyes staring at him. “Is that my Morgie-Morg I hear?”

Morgan giggles as he kneels down to wrap her in a big hug. She squeezes tight, and Peter laughs. “Whoa, whoa, you’re gonna crush me!” Morgan just laughs, hugging him tighter and tighter. “Happy birthday, Morgan,” he says.

“Thank you,” she says, smiling. Her eyes light up. “Can I ask you something? It’s serious.”

“Serious? Seriously? Ask me,” Peter replies, making sure to act as stoic as possible.

She purses her lips, leaning close to his ear and covering her mouth as she whispers. “Can you give me a piggy back ride?”

Peter’s jaw drops. “You’re right, this is serious. How long has it been since you had one of Peter’s famous piggy back rides?”

Morgan pouts. “It’s been _forever_!”

“Well, we’ll have to change that, won’t we?” Peter turns away from her and motions for her to climb on. She scampers onto his back, already giggling like crazy, and he rises to his feet. “You ready?”

“Do the rocket!” she screams.

“Yes ma’am, Miss Birthday Girl!” After a quick countdown, Peter takes off running around the house, even venturing outside, Morgan’s hysterical laugher ringing in his ears. At one point, he thinks he hears May scold him and Pepper tell him to be careful. There’s a couple of times where he nearly runs into some of the guests, but he doesn’t care. All he wants is for Morgan to be happy. He wants to make sure she’s always happy and healthy and loved. And if it takes him working for the rest of his life to make that happen, he’ll do it. He _wants_ to be there for her, not as a replacement of Tony, but as a big brother figure. Somewhat like a father figure, but more fun. He wants to protect her, and guide her, and give her advice about dating when she gets to that age.

Later, as Morgan squeals with delight at the sight of her unicorn cake, as she opens her presents and kindly thanks each gift-giver, Peter swears he feels Tony’s presence in the room, a proud smile on his face, watching over their little family with pride and joy.

That evening, after the party is over and the three of them are back in the city, Peter finds himself at his Stark Industries Lab in Queens. True to what Tony had said, Happy had given him the lab for his own birthday just a couple months ago. Of course, his nerd side came out immediately, and he spent over a month learning the technology, building enhancements for his suit, and creating fun little side projects. The lab had become like a second home to him.

Peter still remembered the night he was searching through the preexisting files on the main database when he saw it.

_Back in Black._

In that moment, Peter was hit by a memory of the in between, of something Tony said. “ _There’s a file in the operating system called ‘_ Back in Black _.’ Take a look at it. I think you’ll like it.”_ Of course, in true Tony fashion, the file wasn’t all there. There was a bit of work that had to be done to complete it: coding and modifying and such. He’d been working on it for a few weeks now, but tonight was the night. He was nearly done.

Working on the file had become routine. Code. Take a sip of energy drink. Code again. Bash head against wall to figure out the next code. Code again. Repeat.

Anticipation builds in his chest as he types out the second to last code. What could this file be? Peter had no idea what to expect. He types out the final code, places his finger over the enter key, and pauses. He takes a deep breath. This is it. It should work now.

He presses the button.

At first, nothing happens. Peter starts scanning over the code that he can see, checking to see if he might have done something wrong, put one letter out of place, when—

“Good evening, Peter.”

And that voice… that voice that used to fill Peter with excitement, then created a void in his chest, and now creates a feeling of contentment and gratefulness fills his heart with warmth and longing. Peter feels tears prick at his eyes, and he absentmindedly brings a hand to his mouth in shock. After a minute, he remembers to breathe again.

_It’s an A.I._

_Tony created an A.I. of himself._

“T-Tony?” he whispers.

“Yep, at your service! Now, if you’re done being emotional, let’s get to work. There’s a pretty nice pair of snazzy glasses in that shelf you haven’t touched that you can upload me to, so you’ll have me wherever you go. You can also upload me to your suit. Don’t worry about Karen. We can combine our files and help you out together. I’ve really missed fighting bad guys, so let me know when you’re ready to proceed.”

Peter sniffles as he listens to Tony, tears flowing down his cheeks. Tony really did think of everything, even during his darkest times, even when he was still broken on the inside. He looks up to the ceiling, picturing the sky above, wondering if Tony can read his thoughts.

_Thank you, Tony. Thank you for everything._

**Author's Note:**

> The scene in "Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows" where Harry sees Dumbledore in the white King's Cross Station inspired this fic.  
> Thank you for reading! Leave comments/kudos and share if you enjoyed!


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